


One Path to Another

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Future Erik/Magda, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Erik wasn't altogether pleased when his soulmate's name appeared on his arm.  If there's one thing Erik doesn't like, it's being controlled after all.





	

It was said that everybody in the world had a destined partner. Sometimes more than one, if you were lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.) A point would come in your life where you would make a choice and that would set you on the correct path to meeting each other. When that happened, your names appeared on each other’s arms and you would know you were on the right path – or they were.

When he’d been younger, Erik had rather liked the stories. His mother had told them with a smile and if some of the stories had been a little sappy sometimes, well, they had been good enough. He had wondered what he would have to do to find the name of his own soulmate, what choice he would make that would make it inevitable.

Of course, Schmitt had been the one to ruin it.

“Unmarked arms,” he’d said once, smiling down at Erik as Erik lay strapped to a table, trying to breathe deeply, trying to crush his doubtless obvious fear. “It is such a strange thing, isn’t it, the idea that the future around us is so set in stone. Quite disturbing when you think of it. I wonder what you will do to cement your future, Erik?”

Erik hadn’t answered. But Schmitt’s words had wormed their way into his heart, spoiling the stories that had once soothed him. He didn’t want to be on a fixed path. He didn’t want anything to be “cemented.” He wanted to be _free_.

In an irony that he didn’t really appreciate until later, his soulmate mark appeared on his arm the day that he _was_ freed. He sat by himself, staring at the bread someone had given him, dwelling on the fact that Schmitt was gone, that while, he, Erik was free, Schmitt was free too. And he would not be caught, he would not be punished and there were others, other _monsters_ that had escaped and that thought they would get away with it. Well, Erik wouldn’t let them. He would hunt down every last man who had been responsible for what had happened to him and his mother and his people and he would kill every single one of them.

His arm itched. Puzzled, Erik scratched it but the itch didn’t go away. Instead, it seemed to move and Erik pulled up his sleeve, expecting to see an insect there.

Instead, he saw letters, black, curled letters that spelt the name _Charles_.

It had written itself just above his camp tattoo.

Erik _hated_ it. He hated it with almost as much venom as he hated Schmitt at the others. He would _not_ be trapped. He would not have his future locked into anything, except what he chose. He would find Schmitt and he would kill Schmitt and that was all that mattered to him. Everything else was an irrelevance, including this name of some man that he didn’t even care about, that he would never care about.

Of course, that changed when he met Charles.

How could it not? Oh, he fought it. He still didn’t want to be controlled, didn’t want to be in love with someone because something decreed it ... and yet Charles was different from anybody he’d ever met. Charles was incredible, Charles was ... _Charles_.

Charles had clearly never had a single doubt about the name on his arm. His eyes had sparkled when Erik had told him his name and when he’d seen his own name on Erik’s arm, he’d glowed with the joy of a man who had found something he had been looking for all his life. He had clearly never worried about the fact that it was a man’s name, that it meant someone had created a path that they had to follow, whether they wanted to or not.

“Why wouldn’t I want this?” he answered when Erik asked the question as they lay in bed together. “I’m sure that if I’d changed my path, the name would have disappeared but I didn’t want to change my path. I’m _glad_ to have met you.”

“Even though I’m a man? Even though it was a decision _I_ made that bought us here?”

“Isn’t that true about anything in life?” Charles asked, rolling over and stroking his hand over Erik’s shoulder. “Yes, it seems that your decision of how to live is what brought us together but all life decisions are like that. If I hadn’t decided to go and investigate the sounds in my house, Raven would have left and I wouldn’t have her in my life. If something hadn’t happened to her, she wouldn’t have chosen to walk one direction and not the other. Life is a series of random chances that push us one way or the other. Personally, I’m glad to have something that’s so clearly marked to make sense of some of that chaos.”

He kissed Erik’s lips and Erik couldn’t help shivering, couldn’t help reacting to that kiss, kissing back. He wasn’t sure he agreed with what Charles was saying but it was easy to push that aside when Charles was there and warm and exciting ...

It was just so easy to ignore everything between them that didn’t match when what did was so good. When everything around them was unfolding just as it should.

Until it all fell apart.

Not that Erik really believed that it had fallen apart. Not really. Of course it would all come right. Charles was his soulmate, they were supposed to be together and not just because of the marks on their arms. Of course they would make up somehow. Yes, Charles had been hurt ... very badly hurt ... and it had been partially Erik’s fault ... but Charles would forgive him, Charles would understand, he would come back to them ... he would understand. Or Erik would find a way to _make_ him understand. 

Then they put him in prison.

He’d once asked his mother if you ever lost the name on your arm once you’d got it. If you could ever do anything that would make your soulmate not your soulmate any longer. She had always told him such a thing would be impossible.

As Erik lay in the blank white room with nothing to do, day after day after day, he found himself sure that the name was fading. That it was less clear than it was. He told himself that it was his imagination, brought on by the fact that he had too much time to think but what if it wasn’t? What if every day he was here, he was losing Charles?

What if that was his fault?

At first, the thought haunted him. He lay there, wondering what he should have done differently, what he could have done differently and knowing deep in his heart that he would have done _nothing_ differently except try to get Charles to understand because _that_ was what was wrong, that Charles just wouldn’t _listen_ and if he would, if he only would ...

Then the thought made him angry. He _wanted_ the name to vanish. How dare Charles still have a claim on him after what he’d done? Charles was the one who had let Erik down, who hadn’t understood. Who had left Erik down here to rot, never even come to try and talk to him about what had happened. 

And then Charles came to rescue him. Only it was a different Charles; an angry, bitter Charles, not the man that Erik had held in his mind for so long.

He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of that. In a strange way, it was almost gratifying – it didn’t look like Charles had been doing any better than he had. But another part of him was furious to see that Charles had sunk so far. That Charles apparently wasn’t the man he’d thought.

There was an irony in that too, he supposed. He chose to ignore it.

Neither of them referred to their bond directly. It was as though they wanted to pretend that it hadn’t mattered. That it hadn’t really meant anything. That whatever in this universe that had connected them together had just been wrong.

And yet, Erik couldn’t help thinking, if that were true, why was the name still there? Why did it still curl over his skin, branding him? Why was it still on Charles’s arm, visible when he reached out to move his chess piece?

Mystique and Charles stopped him from killing the president. But they also let him go. Erik decided it might be prudent to leave America for a while. Give himself time to decide what he was going to do with himself. And avoid any unnecessary confrontation, given that rather a lot of people were looking for him with the intent to kill. He wasn’t popular here, not at all. He would have to find something else. He would get himself somewhere safe and then – 

He wasn’t really sure what the _and then_ would be and it bothered him. He was used to knowing exactly where he wanted to go. The uncertainty was ... unsettling.

But then, everything was unsettling after jail.

He was hiding on a boat, waiting for it to leave when he felt the gentle touch of Charles’s mind in his. For half a moment, he thought that Charles was about to betray him, about to bring him in but then he knew he had been foolish. Charles’s touch was soft, weary. A goodbye.

 _I will miss you, Erik_.

Then he was gone and Erik was alone in the dark again – and yet, not quite so alone as he had been.

He and Charles were still connected. Would always be connected. Even if Erik never saw him again – and somehow, he had a feeling that he would – Charles would always be a part of his life.

His wrist itched. Erik lifted his arm and stared at it, straining in the darkness until the new word that had etched itself on his skin just beneath Charles’s name was revealed.

 _Magda_.

Another path.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas 2016


End file.
